The Invisible and Voiceless Ali

Forough Iranpour

The author is a high school ELL educational technician

Fourteen years ago I resigned from my position as a chemist at a pharmaceutical company in my country of birth in the Middle East to come and join my husband in the US. After being in Maine for a few months, I applied for a position at a pharmaceutical company. I got high scores in the mathematics and science tests which were offered to screen out the job applicants, but failed to meet the standards in English business writing and reading test. This was due to the fact that English was not my first language. Needless to say, I did not get the job. Next, I applied for the Native Language Facilitator position in a local school district. I was hired and worked with English Language Learner students (ELLs) until our first child was born. Six years later, after our second child was three years old, I went back to work.

In 2001, I got hired as an ELL educational technician and have been in this position ever since, working in different schools. For the past three years I have been employed at a high school in Maine. As an ed tech, I support ELL students in their efforts to reach their academic goals. My work involves helping these students, sometimes on an individual basis, to receive the additional academic support that they require in order to adjust to a new educational system and to learn the lessons being taught in English rather than in their native languages.

Here is a story of my experience in helping a student named Ali. His story represents what ELL students often go through when they move to Maine and enter the public high schools. This story shows their struggles with a system that demands that ELL students meet the same standards as the native language speakers. It also shows how the system judges their progress by assessing them without taking into account their specific needs as ELL learners. This story also speaks to my own concerns about the way our school system treats the ELL students, whose numbers continue to grow.

Every year at our high school, on the first few days of the school year, we have our first gathering of English Language Learner students for the semester. During the one-hour meeting, the four of us who are ELL staff members describe our program and explain how the new students can access our services. Three of us are ELL English teachers and native-born English speakers. As the fourth member of the team I provide the ELL students with academic support, as a group or on an individual basis, whether they are in the mainstream classes or are in need of additional help outside the classroom.

The first day orientation is always a wonderful occasion to meet the group of students who will work with us for the months to come. As I started my third year as an ELL ed tech, I once again looked forward to meeting the new students. As I looked around at the group there were 10 male and 7 female students. I was yet to know their backgrounds but from their physical appearances I could guess that most of them were from Africa, likely from Sudan and Somalia, with the rest being from the Middle East and Latin America.

Ali was in this group of new students. I noticed that he seemed withdrawn and barely made eye contact as he introduced himself. He said he was from Sudan and that he had lived in Portland for a year. He seemed to be shy and did not respond to other questions about his life. After the orientation, other students were gathered around still asking us questions, but I noticed that Ali left the room quietly.

In the following weeks, I would see Ali in passing, either in the class or in the school hallways. Ali captured my attention as he was mostly by himself. He seemed to have no friends. According to my schedule, I was to help in the mainstream math class for the second block where I would offer my assistance to ELL students who seemed to be struggling with the lesson. I was to assist five freshmen ELL students. One of them was Ali. As I checked in with each of the students to offer additional explanations related to the given lesson, I noticed Ali was not participating in the class discussion nor was he keen to ask for my help.

Later on, when I checked the review sheet that the students were supposed to work on, I noticed Ali was unable to do most of the problems. He spoke softly (I could hardly hear him) and refused my offer to help him with his worksheet. Meanwhile, the other four students requested assistance consistently.

After a few days, I started to be concerned about Ali. He would not participate in class discussions. While his grades were still low and showed lack of basic math skills he did not ask for help even as the lessons progressed. I wondered if the mainstream classroom was a good fit for him academically. I wished I knew more about him, and knew how I could help him with his academic needs.

Soon, half of the first month was gone and the students in the math class had to take a test. Most of my students got low grades, including Ali who got the lowest. The day the results were given, he seemed upset. With the teacher looking on, he ripped the sheet and threw it in the trash can. Interestingly, his angry reaction made me realize he was serious about the subject and wanted to do well. What I found confusing was his refusal of my offers to help him.

Once the class ended, I shared my concerns about Ali with Sally, the math teacher. I wondered if she shared the same concerns. I told her of my observation of Ali’s poor skills in algebra and math. I asked if she thought it was a good idea to give Ali simpler worksheets based on his ability. She said every student was to be treated the same in her class to make it fair for everyone. She added if Ali was mainstreamed he had to work as hard as the others in order to pass her class. “Maybe we ought to let him fail the class to have him realize he should ask for help when he needs it,” Sally said. I was taken aback with her remark. Here was a teacher who was willing to let a new ELL student fail because she was worried about treating every student the same way. The trouble with this stance was that Sally was not taking Ali’s individual needs—lack of language and basic math skills - into consideration in her rush to be fair-minded.

While I understood she did not want to do more work as she had six Special Ed and five ELL students in addition to others in her class, it was still a shock to hear her sound so indifferent to the wellbeing of a student. Ideally, what I would have wanted to hear from Sally would have been that she, though keen to be fair to everyone, would create learning opportunities to offer Ali the additional support he was clearly in need of, in order to catch up with the class. I wondered if the fairness that Sally advocated for actually meant being unfair to Ali.

My conversation with Sally reminded me of the fact that most mainstream high school teachers who are dealing with ELL students in their classrooms lack the training and the awareness of how to treat and teach their ELL students. These students not only need to learn English, but they are coming from war-torn countries to start a new life, facing barriers and the hardship of starting all over again in a new country. As trauma victims and survivors of state violence, they have had to struggle with issues which have not touched the lives of the native-born students and their teachers here in the U.S. I started to realize that teachers and school administrators need orientations and training opportunities on how to deal with the newcomers.

In addition, teachers in general need training on how to implement differentiated learning strategies that are specific to English Language Learners. This process, though time-consuming and costly, is the first step toward the goal of equity in access to education—a must for every decent society interested in inclusion of all its members.

After my conversation with Sally, I went to the office to find out more about Ali’s background. Ali, the youngest of four in his family, had two older sisters and one brother. According to his record, when he was nine years old, his parents were killed in the civil war in Sudan. Accompanied by his brother and one sister, he escaped from Sudan to Egypt to join their oldest sister who was married and living in Egypt at the time. Once there, they realized they could not go back to Sudan. As a result they decided to apply for asylum in the United States.

Once in the US, through a court, Ali’s oldest sister received the guardianship of Ali, his brother and the other sister. Because Ali had not had any schooling in Sudan, he was illiterate in his own native language, Arabic. He was in ESL classes for four months when they first arrived in Mississippi, as refugees, and that was all the schooling he had had before coming to Maine. I read in his record that he stuttered. This is something I had not noticed before, as he talked little and was quiet most of the time.

This new information added to my worries about him as I started to wonder if his behavior and lack of participation in the class had something to do with his stuttering. I could see how his struggling to speak, added to his difficulty to speak in English, must have been such a frustrating experience for him. Of course, the trauma of losing his parents at such an early age and leaving his country to come to the US as a refugee must have added to the hardship he experienced. With this new knowledge about him, I was determined to support Ali more than ever. I thought that maybe the first problem he faced was being in mainstream classes. Perhaps Ali would function better in an ELL sheltered classes.
There have been changes every year in how the ELL program is run in the public schools in Maine. The program at our school emphasizes early entry into mainstream from the start. As such, to support the students in mainstream three certified ELL teachers and two ELL ed techs were hired between 2002 and 2006 to work in the high school’s ELL department. Even though the numbers of ELL students have been increasing each year for past three years, the ELL staff has not kept up with the pace. In fact, this year at the high school where I work, the ELL ed tech staffing was reduced to one fulltime position (I hold that position).

Obviously, I could not change the system. What I was able to do was to provide Ali with the support he needed. I went to see the school social worker, Diane, to discuss Ali’s case. She shared my concerns and told me Ali had a very severe speech problem. According to her, Ali not only stuttered but he had a tongue click which meant when he was stuck at a sound he moved his jaw to left and right and then paused and tried again to speak. This explained Ali’s resistance to speak in the classroom. Diane added that Ali’s speech problem got worse whenever he was anxious. The social worker said Ali did not think he could have friends because most of his classmates were likely to make fun of the way he spoke. This new information made me feel sad for him.

I asked Diane if Ali was receiving any speech therapy services. She was not aware of any, adding that according to the paperwork sent by the middle school Ali had attended prior to going to high school, he had refused to participate in any speech therapy. I inquired if he could receive services while he was with us. Diane explained that since providing such services involved much paperwork, it made sense to find out from Ali if he had any interest in receiving the therapy before Diane started the long process. When I asked Diane how I could be of help, she suggested that I have a conversation with Ali first to encourage him to agree to receive such services.

By now I felt I was spending too much time trying to help one single student. I had to be careful that my interest to advocate for Ali was not impacting my work, as I was still responsible for several other students. Though determined to see how Ali could get the support he deserved, I faced obstacles as his math teacher seemed reluctant to do more to help. On my own, I decided to investigate the reasons for Ali’s resistant to receive therapy. There was no one I could take my dilemma to, to seek advice. The ELL staff was too busy helping other students who were struggling with their academic issues while learning to speak a new language and adjust to a new school. Even during the lunchtime the ELL staff had to be available to offer tutoring as some students dropped by to ask for help.

It was during one of these lunch breaks that Ali showed up. After helping him with his questions, I brought up the issue of his refusal of speech therapy services at his old school. He explained that transportation was the reason for his refusal at that time to receive services. Plus he could not go anywhere after school since he had to baby-sit his handicapped nephew. This made it possible for his sister to go to work. I asked if he was willing to receive the therapy if it were offered right at the school. He thought for a while and said yes. Though Ali sounded reluctant, I felt I had a good chance to help him.

I went back to Diane and asked if she was willing to start the process. Fortunately Diane was herself qualified to do the speech therapy. This way she could meet with Ali at her office. The problem was that because of her busy schedule and the school policy, Diane could only meet with Ali once a week for half an hour. Diane agreed with me that such short sessions once a week were not close to what Ali needed in order to improve. Sadly, now that Ali was willing to receive therapy, the school policy seemed to be the barrier. This bothered me.

Meanwhile, I mentioned the new development to Sally, the math teacher. I asked if I could pull Ali out of the class sometimes to work with him on an individual basis in the ELL room. Though I was worried this might take too much of my time, I believed working with Ali in a different setting, with no other students present, might help him to feel less threatened socially. While Sally agreed with my request, Ali refused to be pulled out of the classroom. Right away he wanted to know why he was being pulled out of the class. When I explained that it was to help him to catch up, he said he did not need it. It seemed like he did not want to be singled out and viewed as different.

By this time I felt frustrated and thought I was failing in my efforts to help him. But I was aware of the right to equal access to education, based on the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, as a policy to provide fairness in access to education for all. I wondered if placing an ELL student in the regular classroom without ensuring that the student understands what is going on and can participate fully is fair and ethical. I am aware that the instructional and learning needs of ELLs are not the same as those of native-born English speakers. I believe specific assistance and support must be provided to students whose first language is one other than English. But for that to happen, teachers have to understand this as well.

Ali shared with me that his goal was to receive a scholarship from Duke University and play for the NBA once he was done with high school. However I was worried that he was not receiving the education he deserved. To my disappointment, Ali did not pass the math class last semester and was not able to move to Algebra II. He looked disappointed when giving me the news. For this semester he was placed in Algebra I again as well as a mainstream Earth Science class. In both cases the same scenario was now unfolding: he does not participate in the discussions and he stays quiet most of the time. Was he being set up again for failure?

The Earth Science teacher’s teaching strategy was mostly a self-directed approach where he passed out handouts and booklets to students and asked students to read in pairs or individually. Students have to answer sets of questions related to what they have read. Needless to say, this involves reading, comprehending, analyzing, and other high functioning literacy tasks which require fluency in English. Ali was not in a position to succeed in this class. For example, in the ACCESS test—Assessing Comprehension and Communication in English State-to-State for English Language Learners, Ali’s score was not that high. In fact, none of my ELL students in the same Earth science class were doing well. ACCESS is a large-scale test which addresses the academic English language proficiency. The ACCESS score has to be six or above in order to qualify one to exit the ELL program. Ali had not reached the score needed to be able to attend a class such as this Earth Science class.
I shared my concern about Ali’s reading/comprehension capability with the science teacher. He seemed uncomfortable discussing this, being reactive more than proactive. He said he had asked the administration not to put ELL students in his class unless their English level was high enough so that they could manage the reading tasks required for his course. He suggested that the only way to show the administration that this system was not working was to let the ELLs fail. Again, though I understood his frustration with the school administration, I could not agree with his strategy of failing ELL students so as to send a message to the school administration. I felt his ELL students’ interests were made to suffer so that he could make a point, however valid in his eyes, with his supervisors. I wondered how Ali would handle failing yet another class.
When I think about our ELL students in general, I sense they are mostly in great danger of succumbing to feelings of disempowerment in our public school systems. They enter schools already at risk of failing as they are behind their native English-speaking peers right from the start. Because of the unique linguistic and cultural characteristics these students bring with them, they face more serious challenges in accessing the school curriculum. One danger of failing to provide them access to learning is that the system will keep them forever segregated.

In addition, these students are enrolling at an age beyond which literacy instruction is typically taught. Their ability to catch up depends on many factors including the level of literacy in their native language. Of course the level of academic support they receive can be a major contributor to their progress. This will ensure they can do well in their educational experiences in their new country.

As for Ali, I hope to be able to continue to provide him with the academic support he needs in the months and years to come. Ali’s case is an example of the barriers faced by ELL students who come to the US with no formal education. They are forced into mainstream classes to become the responsibility of the mainstream teachers, many of whom are not trained and equipped to teach ELLs. Even more problematic, ELLs are mandated by the government to take high-stakes standardized tests whether they can read and write in English or not. This discrepancy in equity and denial of opportunity in education must stop, if not by the educational authorities, then by us, as current and future teachers.

It is important for us, as educators, to truly recognize that ELLs are part of our future in the United States. The population of ELL students is growing every year. Teachers must receive the necessary information and guidance they need to better understand these students’ needs in order to teach them properly to get them ready for their futures. As educators we have to be open to new ideas and examine our own biases and assumptions if we are committed to building a pluralistic society.

Discussion Questions:

How can we call our educational system equitable when there are students whose needs are not being met?
How can we change the fact that our educational system is racially and ethnically
biased?
When the pace of change in a school population is rapid how does the system adapt?
How can we support teachers with this adaptation?

[Print] [Close Window]